Geoffrey Chaucer

Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastnesse, Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal; For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelnesse, Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal. Savour no more thanne the byhove schal; Reule weel thiself, that other folk canst reede; And trouthe schal delyvere, it is no drede. Tempest the nought al croked to redresse, In trust of hire that tourneth as a bal. Myche wele stant in litel besynesse; Bywar therfore to spurne ayeyns an al; Stryve not as doth the crokke with the wal. Daunte thiself, that dauntest otheres dede; And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede. That the is sent, receyve in buxumnesse; The wrestlyng for the worlde axeth a fal. Here is non home, here nys but wyldernesse. Forth, pylgryme, forth! forth, beste, out of thi stal! Know thi contré! loke up! thonk God of al! Hold the heye weye, and lat thi gost the lede; And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede. Therfore, thou Vache, leve thine olde wrechednesse; Unto the world leve now to be thral. Crie hym mercy, that of hys hie godnesse Made the of nought, and in espec{.i}al Draw unto hym, and pray in general For the, and eke for other, hevenelyche mede; And trouthe schal delyvere, it is no drede.

(excerpt) From Book V The morwen com, and gostly for to speke, This Diomede is come un-to Criseyde; And shortly, lest that ye my tale breke, So wel he for hym-selven spak and seyde, That alle hire sikes soore adown he leyde. And finaly, the sothe for to seyne, He refte hir of the grete of al hire peyne. And after this the storie telleth us That she hym yaf the fair e baye stede, The which he ones wan of Troilus; And ek a broche (and that was litel nede) That Troilus was, she yaf this Diomede. And ek, the bet from sorwe him to releve, She made hym were a pencel of hire sleve. I fynde ek in the stories ell es-where, Whan thorugh the body hurt was Diomede Of Troilus, tho wepte she many a teer e, Whan that she saugh his wyde wowndes blede; And that she took, to kepen hym, good hede; And for to hele hym of his sorwes smerte, Men seyn, I not, that she yaf hym hire herte. But trew ely, the storie telleth us, Ther made nevere woman moore wo Than she, whan that she falsed Troilus. She seyde, "Allas! for now is clene a-go My name of trouthe in love, for evere-mo! For I have falsed oon the gentileste That ever e was, and oon the worthieste! "Allas, of me, un-to the world es ende, Shal neyther been y-writen nor y-songe No good word, for thise bok es wol me shende. O, rolled shal I ben on many a tonge! Thorugh-out the world my belle shal be ronge; And wommen moost wol haten me of alle. Allas, that swich a cas me sholde falle! "Thei wol seyn, in as muche as in me is, I have hem don dishonour, weylawey! Al be I nat the firste that dide amys, What helpeth that to don my blame awey? But syn I see ther is no bettr e way, And that to late is now for me to rewe, To Diomede algate I wol be trewe. "But, Troilus, syn I no bettr e may, And syn that thus departen ye and I, Yet prey I God, so yeve yow right good day, As for the gentileste, trewely, That evere I say, to serven feythfully, And best kan ay his lady honour kepe;"— And with that word she brast anon to wepe. "And certes, yow ne haten shal I never e; And frendes love, that shal ye han of me, And my good word, al sholde I lyven evere. And, trewely, I wolde sory be For to seen yow in adversitee. And giltelees, I woot wel, I yow leve; But al shal passe; and thus take I my leve." But trew ely, how longe it was bytwene, That she forsok him for this Diomede, Ther is non auctor telleth it, I wene. Take every man now to his bokes heede; He shal no terme fynden, out of drede. For though that he bigan to wowe hire sone, Er he hire wan, yet was ther more to doone. Ne me ne list this sely womman chyd e Forther than the story e wol devyse. Hire name, allas! is publisshed so wyde That for hire gilt it oughte ynough suffis e. And if I myghte excuse hire any wyse, For she so sory was for hire untrouthe, I-wis, I wolde excuse hire yet for routhe. Go, litel book, go, litel myn trageedy e, Ther God thi makere yet, er that he dye, So sende myght to make in som com�dye! But litel book, no makyng thou nenvie, But subgit be to alle poesye; And kis the steppes, whereas thou seest pace Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stac e. And for ther is so gret diversitee In Englissh and in writyng of oure tong e, So prey I God that noon myswrite thee, Ne thee mysmetre for defaute of tonge. And red wher-so thou be, or elles songe, That thow be understonde God I beseche! But yet to purpos of my rather speche.— The wrath, as I bigan yow for to sey e, Of Troilus, the Grekis boughten deere; For thousandes his hondes maden deye, As he that was with-outen any peere, Save Ector, in his tyme, as I kan heere. But weilaway, save only Goddes wille! Despitously hym slough the fierse Achille. And whan that he was slayn in this maner e, His lighte goost ful blisfully is went Up to the holownesse of the eighthe spere, In convers letynge everich element; And ther he saugh, with ful avysement, The erratik sterres, herkenyng armonye With sown es fulle of hevenyssh melodie. And doun from thenn es faste he gan avyse This litel spot of erthe, that with the se Embrac ed is, and fully gan despise This wrecched world, and held al vanitee To respect of the pleyn felicitee That is in hevene above; and at the last e, Ther he was slayn, his lokyng doun he caste; And in hym-self he lough right at the wo Of hem that wepten for his deth so fast e; And dampned al oure werk that foloweth so The blynde lust, the which that may not laste, And sholden al our herte on heven caste. And forth he wente, shortly for to telle, Ther as Mercúrye sorted hym to dwelle.— Swich fyn hath, lo, this Troilus for lov e, Swich fyn hath al his grete worthynesse; Swich fyn hath his estat reál above, Swich fyn his lust, swich fyn hath his noblesse: Swich fyn hath false worldes brotelnesse! And thus bigan his lovyng of Criseyde, As I have told, and in this wise he deyde. O yong e fresshe folkes, he or she, In which that love up groweth with your age, Repeyreth hoom fro worldly vanytee, And of youre herte up-casteth the visage To thilk e God that after his ymage Yow made, and thynketh al nys but a fair e This world, that passeth soone as flour es faire. And loveth hym, the which that right for lov e Upon a crois, oure soul es for to beye, First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene above; For he nyl falsen no wight, dar I seye, That wol his herte al holly on him leye. And sin he best to love is, and most meke, What nedeth feynede loves for to seke? Lo here, of payens cors ed olde rites, Lo here, what alle hir goddes may availle; Lo here, thise wrecched worldes appetites; Lo here, the fyn and guerdoun for travaille Of Jove, Appollo, of Mars, of swich rascaill e! Lo here, the forme of olde clerkis speche In poetrie, if ye hir bok es seche.— O moral Gower, this book I direct e To the, and to the, philosophical Strod e, To vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to correcte, Of youre benignitees and zeles goode. And to that sothfast Crist, that starf on rode, With al myn herte of mercy evere I preye; And to the Lord right thus I speke and seye: Thou oon, and two, and three, eterne on lyv e, That regnest ay in three, and two, and oon, Uncircumscript, and al maist circumscrive, Us from visible and invisible foon Defende; and to thy mercy, everichon, So make us, Jesus, for thi mercy digne, For love of mayde and moder thyn benigne! Amen.

(excerpt) From Book II With this he took his leve, and hom he wente; And lord, so he was glad and wel bygon! Criseyde aroos, no lenger she ne stente, But streght in-to hire closet wente anon, And set hire doun as stylle as any ston, And every word gan up and doun to wynde, That he hadde seyd, as it com hire to mynde; And wex somdel aston ed in hire thought, Right for the newe cas; but whan that she Was ful avysed, tho fond she right nought Of peril, why she ought afered be, For man may love, of possibilite, A womman so, his herte may to-breste, And she naught love ayein, but-if hire leste. But as she sat allone and thought e thus, Ascry aroos at scarmuch al with-oute, And men cryde in the strete, "Se, Troilus Hath right now put to flighte the Grekes route!" With that gan al hire meynee for to shoute, "A! go we see; caste up the latis wyde; For thorugh this strete he moot to paleys ryde; "For other wey is fro the yat e noon Of Dardanus, ther opyn is the cheyne." With that com he and al his folk anoon An esy pas rydynge, in routes tweyne, Right as his happy day was, sooth to seyne, For which, men seyn, may nought distourbed be That shal bityden of necessitee. This Troilus sat on his bay e steede, Al armed, save his hed, ful richely, And wownded was his hors, and gan to blede, On whiche he rood a pas, ful softely, But swych a knyghtly sighte, trewely, As was on hym was nought, withouten faille, To loke on Mars, that god is of bataille. So lik a man of arm es and a knyght He was to seen, fulfilled of heigh prowesse; For bothe he hadde a body and a myght To doon that thing, as wel as hardynesse; And eek to seen hym in his gere hym dresse, So fressh, so yong, so weldy semed he, It was an heven up-on hym for to see. His helm to-hewen was in twenty places, That by a tyssew heng, his bak byhynde; His sheld to-dasshed was with swerdes and maces, In which men myghte many an arwe fynde That thirl ed hadde horn and nerf and rynde; And ay the peple cryde, "Here cometh oure joye, And, next his brother, holder up of Troye!" For which he wex a litel reed for shame, Whan he the peple up-on hym herde cryen, That to byholde it was a noble game, How sobreliche he caste doun his ÿen. Cryseÿda gan al his chere aspien, And leet it so softe yn hir herte synke, That to hireself she seyde, "Who yaf me drynke?" For of hire owen thought she wex al reed, Remembryng hire right thus, "Lo, this is he Which that myn uncle swerith he moot be deed, But I on hym have mercy and pitee." And with that thought, for pure ashamed, she Gan in hir hed to pulle, and that as faste, Whil he and all the peple forby paste. And gan to caste and rollen up and doun With-inne hir thought his excellent prowesse, And his estat, and also his renown, His wit, his shap, and eek his gentillesse; But moost hir favour was, for his distresse Was al for hire, and thoughte it was a routhe To sleen swich oon, if that he mente trouthe. Now myghte som envious jangle thus: "This was a sodeyn love; how myght it be That she so lightly loved Troilus Right for the firste syghte; ye, pardee?" Now who-so seith so, mote he never thee! For everything, a gynnyng hath it nede Er al be wrought, with-outen any drede. For I sey nought that she so sodeynly Yaf hym hire love, but that she gan enclyne To like him first, and I have told yow whi; And after that, his manhod and his pyne Made love with-inne hire herte for to myne, For which, by proces and by good servyse, He gat hire love, and in no sodeyn wyse.

(excerpt) From Book I And so bifel, whan comen was the tym e Of Aperil, whan clothed is the med e With new e grene, of lusty Veer the prym e , And swot e smellen flour e s white and red e , In sondry wises shew e d, as I red e , The folk of Troie hir observaunces old e , Palladion e s fest e for to hold e . And to the temple, in al hir best e wys e , In general ther went e many a wight, To herknen of Palladion the servys e ; And nam e ly, so many a lusty knyght, So many a lady fressh and mayden bright, Ful wel aray e d, both mest e , mene, and lest e , Ye, both e for the seson and the fest e . Among thise other e folk was Criseyda, In widew e s habit blak; but nath e les, Right as our first e lettre is now an A, In beautee first so stood she, mak e les; Hire goodly lokyng glad e d al the prees. Nas nevere yet seyn thing to ben preys e d derr e , Nor under cloud e blak so bright a sterr e As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everichon e That hir bihelden in hir blak e wed e ; And yet she stood ful lowe and stille allon e , Byhynden other folk, in litel bred e , And neigh the dore, ay under sham e s dred e , Simple of atir and debonaire of cher e , With ful assur e d lokyng and maner e . This Troilus, as he was wont to gid e His yong e knyght e s, lad hem up and doun In thilk e larg e temple on every sid e , Byholding ay the ladies of the town, Now here, now there; for no devoc{.i}oun Hadde he to non, to reven hym his rest e , But gan to preise and lakken whom hym lest e . And in his walk ful faste he gan to wayten If knyght or squyer of his compaigni e Gan for to syke, or lete his eighen baiten On any womman that he koude espy e ; He wold e smyle, and holden it foly e , And seye him thus, "God woot, she slepeth soft e For love of the, whan thou turnest ful oft e ! "I have herd told, pardieux, of your lyvyng e , Ye loveres, and youre lew e d observaunces, And which a labour folk han in wynnyng e Of love, and in the kepyng which doutaunces; And whan your preye is lost, woo and penaunces. O veray fool e s! nyce and blynde be ye! Ther nys nat oon kan war by other be." And with that word he gan cast up the brow e , Ascaunc e s, "Loo! is this naught wisely spoken?" At which the god of love gan loken row e Right for despit, and shop for to ben wroken. He kidde anoon his bow e nas naught broken; For sodeynly he hitte him att e full e ; And yet as proud a pekok kan he pull e ! O blynd e world, O blynde entenc{.i}oun! How often falleth al the effect contrair e Of surquidrie and foul presumpc{.i}oun; For kaught is proud, and kaught is debonair e . This Troilus is clomben on the stair e , And litel weneth that he moot descenden; But al-day faileth thing that fool e s wenden. As proud e Bayard gynneth for to skipp e Out of the wey, so pryketh hym his corn, Til he a lasshe have of the long e whipp e ; Than thynketh he, "Though I praunce al byforn First in the trays, ful fat and new e shorn, Yet am I but an hors, and horses law e I moot endure, and with my fer e s draw e ."

Madame, ye ben of al beaute shryne As fer as cercled is the mapamounde, For as the cristal glorious ye shyne, And lyke ruby ben your chekes rounde. Therwith ye ben so mery and so jocounde That at a revel whan that I see you daunce, It is an oynement unto my wounde, Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce. For thogh I wepe of teres ful a tyne, Yet may that wo myn herte nat confounde; Your semy voys that ye so smal out twyne Maketh my thoght in joy and blis habounde. So curtaysly I go with love bounde That to myself I sey in my penaunce, "Suffyseth me to love you, Rosemounde, Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce." Nas neuer pyk walwed in galauntyne As I in love am walwed and ywounde, For which ful ofte I of myself devyne That I am trew Tristam the secounde. My love may not refreyde nor affounde, I brenne ay in an amorous plesaunce. Do what you lyst, I wyl your thral be founde, Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce.

(excerpt) Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres wedres overshake, And driven away the longe nyghtes blake! Saynt Valentyn, that art ful hy on-lofte, Thus syngen smale foules for thy sake: Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres wedres overshake. Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte, Sith ech of hem recovered hath hys make; Ful blissful mowe they synge when they wake: Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe That hast this wintres wedres overshake And driven away the longe nyghtes blake!

Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of Caunterbury Whan that Aprille with his shour e s soot e , The droghte of March hath perc e d to the root e , And bath e d every veyne in swich licóur Of which vertú engendr e d is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swet e breeth Inspir e d hath in every holt and heeth The tendr e cropp e s, and the yong e sonn e Hath in the Ram his half e cours y-ronn e , And smal e fowel e s maken melody e , That slepen al the nyght with open y e , So priketh hem Natúre in hir corag e s, Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimag e s, And palmeres for to seken straung e strond e s, To fern e halw e s, kowthe in sondry lond e s; And specially, from every shir e s end e Of Eng e lond, to Caunterbury they wend e , The hooly blisful martir for to sek e , That hem hath holpen whan that they were seek e . Bifil that in that seson on a day, In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, Redy to wenden on my pilgrymag e To Caunterbury with ful devout corag e , At nyght were come into that hostelry e Wel nyne and twenty in a compaigny e Of sondry folk, by áventure y-fall e In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they all e , That toward Caunterbury wolden ryd e . The chambr e s and the stabl e s weren wyd e , And wel we weren es e d att e best e . And shortly, whan the sonn e was to rest e , So hadde I spoken with hem everychon, That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, And mad e forward erly for to rys e , To take oure wey, ther as I yow devys e . But nath e lees, whil I have tyme and spac e , Er that I ferther in this tal e pac e , Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun To tell e yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it sem e d me, And whiche they weren and of what degree, And eek in what array that they were inn e ; And at a Knyght than wol I first bigynn e . A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tym e that he first bigan To riden out, he lov e d chivalri e , Trouthe and honóur, fredom and curteisi e . Ful worthy was he in his lord e s werr e , And thereto hadde he riden, no man ferr e , As wel in cristendom as in heth e ness e , And evere honóur e d for his worthyness e . At Alisaundre he was whan it was wonn e ; Ful oft e tyme he hadde the bord bigonn e Aboven all e nac i ons in Pruc e . In Lettow hadde he reys e d and in Ruc e ,— No cristen man so ofte of his degree. In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be Of Algezir, and riden in Belmary e . At Lyeys was he, and at Sataly e , Whan they were wonne; and in the Gret e See At many a noble armee hadde he be. At mortal batailles hadde he been fiften e , And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssen e In lyst e thri e s, and ay slayn his foo. This ilk e worthy knyght hadde been also Somtym e with the lord of Palaty e Agayn another hethen in Turky e ; And evermoore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meeke as is a mayd e . He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayd e , In al his lyf, unto no maner wight. He was a verray, parfit, gentil knyght. But for to tellen yow of his array, His hors weren good e , but he was nat gay; Of fustian he wer e d a gypon Al bismóter e d with his habergeon; For he was late y-come from his viag e , And went e for to doon his pilgrymag e . With hym ther was his sone, a yong Squiér, A lovyere and a lusty bacheler, With lokk e s crulle as they were leyd in press e . Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gess e . Of his statúre he was of evene length e , And wonderly delyvere and of greet strength e . And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachi e In Flaundr e s, in Artoys, and Pycardi e , And born hym weel, as of so litel spac e , In hope to stonden in his lady grac e . Embrouded was he, as it were a meed e Al ful of fressh e flour e s whyte and reed e . Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day; He was as fressh as is the month of May. Short was his gowne, with slev e s longe and wyd e ; Wel koude he sitte on hors and fair e ryd e ; He koud e song e s make and wel endit e , Juste and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and writ e . So hoote he lov e de that by nyghtertal e He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngal e . Curteis he was, lowely and servysábl e , And carf biforn his fader at the tabl e . A Yeman hadde he and servántz namo At that tyme, for hym list e rid e soo; And he was clad in cote and hood of gren e . A sheef of pecock arw e s bright and ken e , Under his belt he bar ful thriftily— Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly; His arw e s droup e d noght with fether e s low e — And in his hand he baar a myghty bow e . A not-heed hadde he, with a broun viság e . Of wood e craft wel koude he al the uság e . Upon his arm he baar a gay bracér, And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, And on that oother syde a gay dagger e , Harneis e d wel and sharp as point of sper e ; A Cristophere on his brest of silver sheen e . An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of gren e . A forster was he, soothly as I gess e . Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioress e , That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy; Hire gretteste ooth was but by seint e Loy, And she was clep e d madame Eglentyn e . Ful weel she soong the servic e dyvyn e , Entun e d in hir nose ful sem e ly; And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford att e Bow e , For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknow e . At met e wel y-taught was she with-all e : She leet no morsel from hir lipp e s fall e , Ne wette hir fyngr e s in hir sauc e dep e . Wel koude she carie a morsel and wel kep e Thát no drope ne fille upon hire brist; In curteisie was set ful muchel hir list. Hire over-lipp e wyp e d she so clen e That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sen e Of grec e , whan she dronken hadde hir draught e . Ful sem e ly after hir mete she raught e . And sikerly she was of greet desport, And ful plesáunt and amyable of port, And peyn e d hire to countrefet e cheer e Of court, and been estatlich of maner e , And to ben holden digne of reverenc e . But for to speken of hire consc i enc e , She was so charitable and so pitous She wold e wepe if that she saugh a mous Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledd e . Of smal e hound e s hadde she, that she fedd e With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel breed; But soor e wepte she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerd e smert e ; And al was consc i ence and tendr e hert e . Ful semyly hir wympul pynch e d was; Hire nose tretys, her eyen greye as glas, Hir mouth ful smal and ther-to softe and reed; But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; It was almoost a spann e brood, I trow e ; For, hardily, she was nat undergrow e . Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war; Of smal coral aboute hire arm she bar A peire of bed e s, gauded al with gren e , And ther-on heng a brooch of gold ful sheen e , On which ther was first write a crown e d A, And after,Amor vincit omnia. Another Nonn e with hire hadd e she, That was hire chap e leyne, and Preest e s thre. A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistri e , An outridere, that lov e de veneri e ; A manly man, to been an abbot abl e . Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stabl e ; And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heer e Gýnglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleer e , And eek as loude, as dooth the chapel bell e , Ther as this lord was kepere of the cell e . The reule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit, By-cause that it was old and som-del streit,— This ilk e Monk leet old e thyng e s pac e , And heeld after the new e world the spac e . He yaf nat of that text a pull e d hen That seith that hunters ben nat hooly men, Ne that a monk, whan he is recch e lees, Is likn e d til a fissh that is waterlees,— This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystr e . But thilk e text heeld he nat worth an oystr e ; And I seyde his opinioun was good. What sholde he studie and make hymselven wood, Upon a book in cloystre alwey to pour e , Or swynken with his hand e s and labóur e , As Austyn bit? How shal the world be serv e d? Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserv e d. Therfore he was a prikasour aright: Grehoundes he hadde, as swift as fowel in flight; Of prikyng and of huntyng for the har e Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spar e . I seigh his sleves y-púrfiled at the hond With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond; And for to festne his hood under his chyn He hadde of gold y-wroght a curious pyn; A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he hadde been enoynt. He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt; His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed, That stem e d as a forneys of a leed; His boot e s souple, his hors in greet estaat. Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat. He was nat pale, as a forpyn e d goost: A fat swan loved he best of any roost. His palfrey was as broun as is a bery e . A Frere ther was, a wantowne and a mery e , A lymytour, a ful solémpn e man. In all e the ordr e s foure is noon that kan So muchel of daliaunce and fair langag e . He hadd e maad ful many a mar i ag e Of yong e wommen at his owen e cost. Unto his ordre he was a nobl e post. Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns over al in his contree, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun; For he hadde power of confess i oun, As seyde hym-self, moor e than a curát, For of his ordre he was licenciat. Ful swet e ly herde he confess i oun, And plesaunt was his absoluc i oun. He was an esy man to yeve penaunc e There as he wiste to have a good pitaunc e ; For unto a povre ordr e for to yiv e Is sign e that a man is wel y-shryv e ; For, if he yaf, he dorst e make avaunt He wiste that a man was répentaunt; For many a man so hard is of his hert e He may nat wepe al-thogh hym soor e smert e . Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyér e s Men moote yeve silver to the povr e frer e s. His typet was ay fars e d full of knyv e s And pynn e s, for to yeven fair e wyv e s. And certeinly he hadde a murye not e : Wel koude he synge and pleyen on a rot e ; Of yeddynges he baar outr e ly the pris. His nekk e whit was as the flour-de-lys; Ther-to he strong was as a champioun. He knew the tavernes wel in every toun, And everich hostiler and tappester e Bet than a lazar or a beggester e ; For unto swich a worthy man as he Acorded nat, as by his facultee, To have with sik e lazars aqueyntaunc e ; It is nat honest, it may nat avaunc e Fór to deelen with no swich poraill e , But al with riche and selleres of vitaill e . And over-al, ther as profit sholde aris e , Curteis he was and lowely of servys e . Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous. He was the best e beggere in his hous; [And yaf a certeyn ferm e for the graunt, Noon of his brethren cam ther in his haunt;] For thogh a wydw e hadd e noght a sho, So plesaunt was his In principio, Yet wolde he have a ferthyng er he went e : His purchas was wel bettr e than his rent e . And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp e . In lov e -dayes ther koude he muchel help e , For there he was nat lyk a cloysterer With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scolér, But he was lyk a maister, or a pop e ; Of doubl e worstede was his semycop e , That rounded as a belle, out of the press e . Somwhat he lips e d for his wantowness e , To make his Englissh sweete upon his tong e ; And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe, His eyen twynkl e d in his heed aryght As doon the sterr e s in the frosty nyght. This worthy lymytour was cleped Hubérd. A Marchant was ther with a fork e d berd, In mott e leye, and hye on horse he sat; Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bevere hat; His boot e s clasp e d faire and fetisly. His resons he spak ful solémpn e ly, Sownynge alway thencrees of his wynnyng. He wolde the see were kept for any thing Bitwix e Middelburgh and Or e well e . Wel koude he in eschaung e sheeld e s sell e . This worthy man ful wel his wit bisett e ; Ther wist e no wight that he was in dett e , So estatly was he of his gouvernaunc e , With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunc e . For sothe he was a worthy man with-all e , But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym call e . A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also, That unto logyk hadd e longe y-go. As leen e was his hors as is a rak e , And he nas nat right fat, I undertak e , But look e d holwe, and ther-to sobr e ly. Ful thredbare was his overeste court e py; For he hadde geten hym yet no benefic e , Ne was so worldly for to have offic e ; For hym was lévere háve at his bedd e s heed Twénty book e s, clad in blak or reed, Of Aristotle and his philosophi e , Than rob e s riche, or fíthele, or gay sautri e . But al be that he was a philosophr e , Yet hadd e he but litel gold in cofr e ; But al that he myghte of his freend e s hent e On book e s and on lernynge he it spent e , And bisily gan for the soul e s prey e Of hem that yaf hym wher-with to scoley e . Of studie took he moost cure and moost heed e . Noght o word spak he moor e than was need e ; And that was seyd in forme and reverenc e , And short and quyk and ful of hy senténc e . Sownynge in moral vertu was his spech e ; And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly tech e . A Sergeant of the Law e , war and wys, That often hadd e been at the Parvys, Ther was also, ful riche of excellenc e . Discreet he was, and of greet reverenc e — He sem e d swich, his word e s weren so wis e . Justice he was ful often in assis e , By patente, and by pleyn commiss i oun. For his science and for his heigh renoun, Of fees and rob e s hadde he many oon. So greet a purchasour was nowher noon: Al was fee symple to hym in effect; His purchasyng myght e nat been infect. Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he sem e d bisier than he was. In term e s hadde he caas and doom e s all e That from the tyme of kyng William were fall e . Ther-to he koude endite and make a thyng, Ther koud e no wight pynche at his writyng; And every statut koude he pleyn by rot e . He rood but hoomly in a medlee cot e , Girt with a ceint of silk, with barr e s smal e ; Of his array telle I no lenger tal e . A Frank e leyn was in his compaigny e . Whit was his berd as is the day e sy e ; Of his complex i oun he was sangwyn. Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn; To lyven in delit was evere his won e , For he was Epicurus owen e son e , That heeld opin i oun that pleyn delit Was verraily felicitee parfit. An housholdere, and that a greet, was he; Seint Julian he was in his contree. His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon; A bettre envyn e d man was nowher noon. Without e bak e mete was nevere his hous, Of fissh and flessh, and that so plent e vous, It snew e d in his hous of mete and drynk e , Of all e deyntees that men koud e thynk e , After the sondry sesons of the yeer; So chaung e d he his mete and his soper. Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muw e , And many a breem and many a luce in stuw e . Wo was his cook but if his sauc e wer e Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geer e . His table dormant in his halle alway Stood redy cover e d al the long e day. At sessiouns ther was he lord and sir e ; Ful oft e tyme he was knyght of the shir e . An anlaas, and a gipser al of silk, Heeng at his girdel, whit as morn e milk. A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour; Was nowher such a worthy vavasour. An Haberdasshere, and a Carpenter, A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapycer,— And they were cloth e d alle in o lyveree Of a solémpne and a greet fraternitee. Ful fressh and newe hir geere apik e d was; Hir knyv e s wer e chap e d noght with bras, But al with silver; wroght ful clene and weel Hire girdl e s and hir pouch e s everydeel. Wel sem e d ech of hem a fair burgeys To sitten in a yeldehalle, on a deys. Éverich, for the wisdom that he kan, Was shaply for to been an alderman; For catel hadd e they ynogh and rent e , And eek hir wyv e s wolde it wel assent e , And ell e s certeyn wer e they to blam e . It is ful fair to been y-cleped Madam e , And goon to vigili e s al bifor e , And have a mantel roialliche y-bor e . A Cook they hadd e with hem for the non e s, To boille the chikn e s with the marybon e s, And poudr e -marchant tart, and galyngal e . Wel koude he knowe a draughte of Londoun al e . He koud e rooste, and sethe, and broille, and fry e , Máken mortreux, and wel bake a py e . But greet harm was it, as it thought e me, That on his shyne a mormal hadd e he; For blankmanger, that made he with the best e . A Shipman was ther, wonynge fer by west e ; For aught I woot he was of Dert e mouthe. He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouth e , In a gowne of faldyng to the knee. A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun. The hoot e somer hadde maad his hewe al broun; And certeinly he was a good felaw e . Ful many a draughte of wyn hadde he y-draw e Fro Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep. Of nyc e consc i ence took he no keep. If that he faught and hadde the hyer hond, By water he sente hem hoom to every lond. But of his craft to rekene wel his tyd e s, His strem e s, and his daungers hym bisid e s, His herberwe and his moone, his lode-menag e , Ther nas noon swich from Hull e to Cartag e . Hardy he was and wys to undertak e ; With many a tempest hadde his berd been shak e . He knew all e the haven e s, as they wer e , From Gootlond to the Cape of Fynyster e , And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayn e . His barge y-clep e d was the Maud e layn e . With us ther was a Doctour of Phisik; In all this world ne was ther noon hym lik, To speke of phisik and of surgery e ; For he was grounded in astronomy e . He kepte his pac i ent a ful greet deel In hour e s, by his magyk natureel. Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent Of his ymáges for his pac i ent. He knew the cause of everich malady e , Were it of hoot, or cold, or moyste, or dry e , And where they engendred and of what humour. He was a verray, parfit praktisour; The cause y-knowe, and of his harm the root e , Anon he yaf the sik e man his boot e . Ful redy hadde he his apothecari e s To sende him drogg e s and his letuari e s; For ech of hem made oother for to wynn e , Hir frendshipe nas nat new e to bigynn e . Wel knew he the old e Esculapius, And De{"y}scorides, and eek Rufus, Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen, Serapion, Razis, and Avycen, Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn, Bernard, and Gat e sden, and Gilbertyn. Of his diet e mesurable was he, For it was of no superfluitee, But of greet norissyng and digestíbl e . His studie was but litel on the Bibl e . In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al, Lyn e d with taffata and with sendal. And yet he was but esy of dispenc e ; He kept e that he wan in pestilenc e . For gold in phisik is a cord i al; Therfore he lov e de gold in spec i al. A Good Wif was ther of bisid e Bath e , But she was som-del deef, and that was scath e . Of clooth-makyng she hadd e swich an haunt She pass e d hem of Ypr e s and of Gaunt. In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon That to the offrynge bifore hire shold e goon; And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she That she was out of all e charitee. Hir coverchiefs ful fyn e weren of ground; I dorst e swere they wey e den ten pound That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed. Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, Ful streite y-teyd, and shoes ful moyste and new e . Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hew e . She was a worthy womman al hir lyv e ; Housbondes at chirch e dore she hadd e fyv e , Withouten oother compaignye in youth e ; But ther-of nedeth nat to speke as nowth e . And thri e s hadde she been at Jérusalem; She hadd e pass e d many a straung e strem; At Rome she hadd e been, and at Boloign e , In Galice at Seint Jame, and at Coloign e . She koud e muchel of wandrynge by the wey e . Gat-toth e d was she, soothly for to sey e . Upon an amblere esily she sat, Y-wympl e d wel, and on hir heed an hat As brood as is a bokeler or a targ e ; A foot-mantel aboute hir hip e s larg e , And on hire feet a paire of spor e s sharp e . In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carp e ; Of remedies of love she knew per chauncé, For she koude of that art the old e daunc e . A good man was ther of relig i oun, And was a povr e Person of a Toun; But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk. He was also a lern e d man, a clerk, That Crist e s Gospel trew e ly wolde prech e ; His parisshens devoutly wolde he tech e . Benygne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversitee ful pac i ent; And swich he was y-prev e d oft e sith e s. Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tith e s, But rather wolde he yeven, out of dout e , Unto his povr e parisshens about e , Of his offrýng and eek of his substaunc e ; He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunc e . Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder, But he ne laft e nat, for reyn ne thonder, In siknesse nor in meschief to visít e The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lit e , Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensampl e to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte and afterward he taught e . Out of the gospel he tho word e s caught e ; And this figure he added eek therto, That if gold rust e , what shal iren doo? For if a preest be foul, on whom we trust e , No wonder is a lew e d man to rust e ; And shame it is, if a prest tak e keep, A shiten shepherde and a clen e sheep. Wel oghte a preest ensampl e for to yiv e By his clennesse how that his sheep sholde lyv e . He sett e nat his benefice to hyr e And leet his sheep encombr e d in the myr e , And ran to Londoun, unto Seint e Poul e s, To seken hym a chaunterie for soul e s, Or with a bretherhed to been withhold e ; But dwelte at hoom and kept e wel his fold e , So that the wolf ne made it nat myscari e ; He was a shepherde, and noght a mercenari e . And though he hooly were and vertuous, He was to synful man nat despitous, Ne of his spech e daungerous ne dign e , But in his techyng díscreet and benygn e . To drawen folk to hevene by fairness e , By good ensample, this was his bisyness e . But it were any persone obstinat, What so he were, of heigh or lough estat, Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys. A bettr e preest I trowe that nowher noon ys. He waited after no pompe and reverenc e , Ne maked him a spic e d conscienc e ; But Crist e s loore and his apostl e s twelv e He taughte, but first he folw e d it hymselv e . With hym ther was a Plowman, was his brother, That hadde y-lad of dong ful many a fother; A trew e swynkere and a good was he, Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee. God loved he best, with al his hool e hert e , At all e tym e s, thogh him gamed or smert e . And thanne his neigh e bor right as hymselv e . He wold e thresshe, and therto dyke and delv e , For Cristes sake, for every povr e wight, Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght. His tith e s pay e de he ful faire and wel, Bothe of his propr e swynk and his catel. In a tabard he rood upon a mer e . Ther was also a Reve and a Miller e , A Somnour and a Pardoner also, A Maunciple, and myself,—ther were namo. The Millere was a stout carl for the non e s; Ful byg he was of brawn and eek of bon e s. That prov e d wel, for over-al, ther he cam, At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram. He was short-sholdr e d, brood, a thikk e knarr e ; Ther nas no dore that he nolde heve of harr e , Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed. His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, And therto brood, as though it were a spad e . Upon the cop right of his nose he had e A werte, and thereon stood a toft of herys, Reed as the brustl e s of a sow e s erys; His nos e thirl e s blak e were and wyd e . A swerd and a bokeler bar he by his syd e . His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys; He was a janglere and a goliardeys, And that was moost of synne and harlotri e s. Wel koude he stelen corn and tollen thri e s; And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee. A whit cote and a blew hood wer e d he. A bagg e pipe wel koude he blowe and sowne, And therwithal he broghte us out of town e . A gentil Maunciple was ther of a templ e , Of which achátours myght e take exempl e For to be wise in byynge of vitaill e ; For, wheither that he payde or took by taill e , Algate he wayted so in his achaat That he was ay biforn and in good staat. Now is nat that of God a ful fair grac e , That swich a lew e d mann e s wit shal pac e The wisdom of an heep of lern e d men? Of maistr e s hadde he mo than thri e s ten, That weren of lawe expert and curious, Of whiche ther weren a duszeyne in that hous Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond Of any lord that is in Eng e lond, To maken hym lyv e by his propr e good, In honour dettelees, but if he were wood, Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desir e ; And abl e for to helpen al a shir e In any caas that myght e falle or happ e ; And yet this Manciple sette hir aller capp e The Rev e was a sclendre colerik man. His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan; His heer was by his erys round y-shorn; His top was dokk e d lyk a preest biforn. Ful long e were his legg e s and ful len e , Y-lyk a staf, ther was no calf y-sen e . Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynn e ; Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynn e . Wel wiste he, by the droghte and by the reyn, The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn. His lord e s sheep, his neet, his day e ry e , His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultry e , Was hoolly in this rev e s governyng; And by his covenant yaf the rekenyng Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of ag e ; There koude no man brynge hym in arrerag e . There nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyn e , That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyn e ; They were adrad of hym as of the deeth. His wonyng was ful fair upon an heeth; With gren e tre e s shadw e d was his plac e . He koud e bettr e than his lord purchac e ; Ful riche he was a-stor e d pryv e ly. His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly, To yeve and lene hym of his owen e good, And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. In youthe he hadd e lerned a good myster; He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter. This Rev e sat upon a ful good stot, That was al pomely grey, and hight e Scot. A long surcote of pers upon he had e , And by his syde he baar a rusty blad e . Of Northfolk was this Reve of which I tell e , Biside a toun men clepen Bald e swell e . Tukk e d he was as is a frere, about e . And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure rout e . A Somonour was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynn e s fac e , For sawc e fleem he was, with eyen narw e . As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparw e , With scal e d brow e s blake and pil e d berd,— Of his visag e children were aferd. Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartr e noon, Ne oyn e ment that wold e clense and byt e , That hym myghte helpen of his whelk e s whit e , Nor of the knobb e s sittynge on his chek e s. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lek e s, And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crie as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Than wolde he spek e no word but Latyn. A few e term e s hadde he, two or thre, That he had lern e d out of som decree,— No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay Kan clepen "Watte" as wel as kan the pope. But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophi e ; Ay "Questio quid juris" wolde he cri e . He was a gentil harlot and a kynd e ; A bettr e felawe sholde men noght fynde. He wold e suffr e for a quart of wyn A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf month, and excuse hym att e full e ; And priv e ly a fynch eek koude he pulle. And if he foond owher a good felaw e , He wold e techen him to have noon awe, In swich caas, of the erch e deken e s curs, But if a mann e s soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punysshed be: "Purs is the erch e deken e s helle," seyde he. But wel I woot he ly e d right in ded e . Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him dred e , For curs wol slee, right as assoillyng savith; And also war him of a Significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owen e gise The yong e girl e s of the diocis e , And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an al e -stak e ; A bokeleer hadde he maad him of a cak e . With hym ther rood a gentil Pardoner Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer, That streight was comen fro the court of Rom e . Ful loude he soong, "Com hider, lov e , to me!" This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun; Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun. This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex; By ounces henge his lokk e s that he hadd e , And therwith he his shuldr e s overspradd e . But thynne it lay, by colpons, oon and oon; But hood, for jolitee, wer e d he noon, For it was truss e d up in his walét. Hym thoughte he rood al of the new e jet; Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bar e . Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an har e . A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his capp e . His walet lay biforn hym in his lapp e , Bret-ful of pardoun, comen from Rome al hoot. A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. No berd hadde he, ne nevere shold e hav e , As smothe it was as it were late y-shav e ; I trowe he were a geldyng or a mar e . But of his craft, fro Berwyk into War e , Ne was ther swich another pardoner; For in his male he hadde a pilw e -beer, Which that, he seyd e , was Oure Lady veyl; He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl That Seint e Peter hadde, whan that he went e Upon the see, til Jesu Crist hym hent e . He hadde a croys of latoun, ful of ston e s, And in a glas he hadd e pigg e s bon e s. But with thise relik e s, whan that he fond A povr e person dwellynge upon lond, Upon a day he gat hym moore money e Than that the person gat in month e s twey e ; And thus with feyn e d flaterye and jap e s He made the person and the peple his ap e s. But trew e ly to tellen att e last e , He was in chirche a noble ecclesiast e ; Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a stori e , But alderbest he song an offertori e ; For wel he wist e , whan that song was song e , He moste preche, and wel affile his tong e To wynn e silver, as he ful wel koud e ; Therefore he song the murierly and loud e . Now have I toold you shortly, in a claus e , Thestaat, tharray, the nombre, and eek the caus e Why that assembl e d was this compaigny e In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelry e That highte the Tabard, fast e by the Bell e . But now is tym e to yow for to tell e How that we baren us that ilk e nyght, Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght; And after wol I telle of our viag e And al the remenaunt of oure pilgrimag e . But first, I pray yow, of youre curteisy e , That ye narette it nat my vileyny e , Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateer e , To tell e yow hir word e s and hir cheer e , Ne thogh I speke hir word e s propr e ly. For this ye knowen al-so wel as I, Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce, as ny as evere he kan, Everich a word, if it be in his charg e , Al speke he never so rud e liche and larg e ; Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrew e , Or feyn e thyng, or fynd e word e s new e . He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother; He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ, And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. Eek Plato seith, whoso kan hym red e , "The word e s moote be cosyn to the ded e ." Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree Heere in this tale, as that they shold e stond e ; My wit is short, ye may wel understond e . Greet chier e made oure Hoost us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon, And serv e d us with vitaille at the best e : Strong was the wyn and wel to drynke us lest e . A semely man Oure Hoost e was with-all e For to been a marchal in an hall e . A large man he was with eyen step e , A fairer burgeys was ther noon in Chep e ; Boold of his speche, and wys, and well y-taught, And of manhod hym lakk e d e right naught. Eek thereto he was right a myrie man, And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of myrthe among e s other e thyng e s, Whan that we hadd e maad our rekenyng e s; And seyd e thus: "Now, lordynges, trew e ly, Ye been to me right welcome, hert e ly; For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat ly e , I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaigny e At on e s in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow myrth e , wiste I how; And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal cost e noght. "Ye goon to Canterbury—God yow speed e , The blisful martir quit e yow youre meed e ! And wel I woot, as ye goon by the wey e , Ye shapen yow to talen and to pley e ; For trew e ly confort ne myrthe is noon To rid e by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if you liketh alle, by oon assent, For to stonden at my jugg e ment, And for to werken as I shal yow sey e , To-morw e , whan ye riden by the wey e , Now, by my fader soul e , that is deed, But ye be myrie, I wol yeve yow myn heed! Hoold up youre hond, withouten moor e spech e ." Oure conseil was nat long e for to sech e ; Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys, And graunted hym withouten moore avys, And bad him seye his verdit, as hym lest e . "Lordynges," quod he, "now herkneth for the best e ; But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn; This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, That ech of yow, to short e with oure wey e In this viage, shal tell e tal e s twey e , To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And homward he shal tellen other e two, Of aventúres that whilom han bifall e . And which of yow that bereth hym beste of all e , That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas Tal e s of best sentence and moost solaas, Shal have a soper at oure aller cost, Heere in this plac e , sittynge by this post, Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury. And, for to mak e yow the moor e mury, I wol myselven gladly with yow ryd e , Right at myn owen e cost, and be youre gyd e ; And whoso wole my jugg e ment withsey e Shal paye al that we spenden by the wey e . And if ye vouch e -sauf that it be so, Tel me anon, withouten word e s mo, And I wol erly shap e me therfor e ." This thyng was graunted, and oure oth e s swor e With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also That he wolde vouch e -sauf for to do so, And that he wolde been oure governour, And of our tal e s juge and réportour, And sette a soper at a certeyn pris; And we wol reul e d been at his devys In heigh and lough; and thus, by oon assent, We been acorded to his jugg e ment. And therupon the wyn was fet anon; We dronken, and to rest e wente echon, Withouten any lenger taryyng e . Amorw e , whan that day gan for to spryng e , Up roos oure Hoost and was oure aller cok, And gadrede us togidre alle in a flok; And forth we riden, a litel moore than paas, Unto the wateryng of Seint Thomas; And there oure Hoost bigan his hors arest e , And seyd e , "Lordynges, herkneth, if yow lest e : Ye woot youre foreward and I it yow record e . If even-song and morw e -song accord e , Lat se now who shal telle the first e tal e . As ever mote I drynk e wyn or al e , Whoso be rebel to my jugg e ment Shal paye for all that by the wey is spent. Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynn e ; He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynn e . Sire Knyght," quod he, "my mayster and my lord Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord. Cometh neer," quod he, "my lady Prioress e . And ye, sire Clerk, lat be your shamefastness e , Ne studieth noght. Ley hond to, every man." Anon to drawen every wight bigan, And, shortly for to tellen as it was, Were it by áventúre, or sort, or cas, The sothe is this, the cut fil to the Knyght, Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght; And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, By foreward and by composic i oun, As ye han herd; what nedeth word e s mo? And whan this goode man saugh that it was so, As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his foreward by his free assent, He seyd e , "Syn I shal bigynne the gam e , What, welcome be the cut, a Godd e s name! Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I sey e ." And with that word we ryden forth oure wey e ; And he bigan with right a myrie cheer e His tale anon, and seyde in this manér e .